


all she wanted was a butterbeer

by k_tron



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 03:21:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19287079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k_tron/pseuds/k_tron
Summary: Lily gets hit on at the Three Broomsticks, and she and James share a chat.





	all she wanted was a butterbeer

All she wanted was a butterbeer.

“Hey, where you from?”

Lily turned slightly, regretting her decision to take her eyes off the bartender almost as soon as she made it. A large, sweater-clad man loomed over her, smirking as he pushed closer and settled his elbows on the rough wood. Within moments, his face — unshaven goatee and all — was eye-level with hers.

“Surrey,” Lily answered with a polite smile, twisting back toward the bar in an uncomfortable attempt to move away from him. Merlin, the bar was crowded, but it wasn’t that crowded. Why did he have to stand so close to her? Lily tried to catch Rosmerta’s eye with a bit more urgency. Unfortunately, Goatee-Face moved with her.

“Oh? My aunt has a friend in Surrey,” he said airily, taking a half step closer. “Nice town. Can I help you with that?”

When Lily glanced up, his eyes were roving over her body where it was pressed against the bar top in an attempt to flag down a drink. Capitalizing on the lack of space, he had stepped even closer, and was watching her attempt to order with too much interest. She noticed what looked like a mustard stain on his collar.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Without even an attempt at subtlety, Lily took a half step farther away and inhaled a deep breath. Three, two, one…

“So—“ and there it was — “you got a boyfriend or something?”

Not even five seconds. And all of a sudden, Lily was sick of it.

“Yup!” she said brightly, fulling turning to face him now. “We’re engaged, actually. He’s an ex-Auror — knows loads of deadly curses, and loves hurting anyone who gets too close to his fiancé.” She dropped her voice conspiratorially. “Seems to think you shouldn’t pop into a woman’s personal space without an invitation, crazy bloke.”

The man’s hands shot off the bar. “I didn’t…”

“I’ll let you pick these up, yeah? Since you offered to help and all. Very generous of you.” Without another word, Lily snatched the two waiting butterbeers off the counter and spun around, red hair flipping violently over her shoulder as she stomped off. Merlin, all she wanted was a butterbeer.

 

***

 

All he wanted was a place to focus.

He had come to Hogsmeade in the hope of avoiding his three best friends so he could get some work done. He didn’t mind busy or crowded, but it was a bit hard to focus on a Charms essay when Sirius Black kept trying to spell the textbook into flapping around the room. After wrestling it to the ground for the sixth time, amid cries of, “You’re supposed to be the fun one, Prongs!” from Peter and “But this is practice, it’s like you’re studying!” from Sirius, James stuffed his quill and book in a bag and scampered out of the common room.

Immediately outside of the portrait hole, James sank down to the floor and thumped his head against the cool stone. He was _trying_ , dammit. It was sixth year and classes were harder than ever. His Quidditch team was training at all hours of the day and night in an attempt to finally, finally beat those sodding Ravenclaw chasers who moved like they were one person instead of three, always knowing where the other was without even having to shout. And there was his dad’s voice in the back of his head: _“If you want to be Head Boy…”_

It wasn’t something James had considered, until that day by the lake. Until, hours afterward, when James was still fuming about Lily’s _“inability to see reason”_ and the fact that _“Snivellus and his greasy hair deserved every moment,”_ and Remus found him working his frustration out on the Quidditch pitch. Remus sat quietly for almost half an hour, waiting until James finally brought his broomstick to a halt in midair and climbed down onto the bleachers next to his friend.

“She’s right, you know,” Remus said quietly, after several moments of angry silence. James nearly cracked his neck with how quickly he flung his head around and opened his mouth for a biting retort. Remus continued hastily, “I mean, she’s not entirely right. But James —” at this, Remus placed his hand gently on James’s shoulder — “if you really want to show Lily the best side of yourself, it might be best to calm it down a bit, mate. With the hexing, I mean. And the pranking. She knows that side of you. Show her the other bits.” James opened his mouth again, but Remus cut him off. “James,” he said, “I know you as the friend who, at 11 years old, discovered the worst thing you can discover about a person and still stayed by my side. I know you as the friend who braved expulsion and dismemberment and being stuck as a sodding deer forever just to make sure I wasn’t lonely.” Remus shook his head slightly. “You have so much more to offer her. And so much more to offer this place,” he said quietly.

Remus stood up, brushing himself off. “For what it’s worth, she wants to be Head Girl. We both know I can’t be Head Boy, for obvious reasons, so… think about it.”

James scoffed, but Remus just smiled slightly and started down the stands, hands tucked into his pockets and shoulders hunched against the chill.

Though James immediately grabbed onto the idea as a far-fetched and desperate plan to win Lily’s heart (much like the owl post debacle of fourth year — James still found feathers in nooks of the common room), it took hold of him much differently. It nagged at random moments: when he passed a first year in the hallway being bullied by a Slytherin third year, or when he got a nod of approval from McGonagall for performing a particularly difficult transfiguration in class. _Wouldn’t it be nice to have authority?_ the idea whispered in the back of his mind. _Don’t you like this feeling of accomplishment, of realizing you can change things?_

So, though it started as a joke, as the year continued James realized that — believe it or not — he actually _did_ want to be Head Boy. He wanted to make his parents proud. He wanted to help show Hogwarts students the right version of learning magic, with laughter and joy and friendship and not that twisted, perverted, exclusive version the Slytherins taught. He wanted to lead.

His mates were mostly supportive — though Sirius laughed himself hoarse when James first mentioned the idea. Remus only nodded, that same enigmatic smile on his face. And Peter seemed to be a mixture of shocked and proud, both confused that James would consider it and somehow hopeful that it would work out. They all came around when they realized he was serious, supporting his attempts to tutor and study and throw himself into Quidditch captain-hood. Of course, they were still the Marauders and they were still his best mates — so occasionally, James had to put up with flying books in the common room.

Hence, the trip to Hogsmeade.

James was sitting at his booth, just wondering if another butterbeer might make the essay move a bit faster when someone thumped down across from him. He glanced up, startled.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Potter, I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

James blinked in disbelief as Lily Evans plopped down, unwinding a scarf from her neck and shoving it roughly into her bag. He was still blinking when she glanced up, took in his mop of black curls, and snorted. “Why did I mention the hair…” she muttered, reaching down again to pull a book from her bag.

James’s hand immediately jumped to his hair and he cursed silently, throwing his arm back further to scratch the back of his neck in what he hoped looked like a casual motion. He watched her rummage for a moment.

“Erm, Evans?” She didn’t look up. “Evans… Sirius is telling me somewhere not to look a gift horse in the mouth but, er… why are you here?”

Finally, she pulled a thick tome out of her bag and thunked it on the table. “Because if I’m sitting with one unwanted man, I am less likely to attract other unwanted men,” she huffed. “Shakespeare said it, Potter. I’m going with the devil I know.”

James brushed aside for the moment that she had called him unwanted and evil. “I don’t think Shakespeare said that, Evans. Maybe some Irish bloke. I think the butterbeer has gone to your head.” He was amused to see she looked flustered at his comment.

“You just… just… stop.”

He grinned and leaned forward. “You must like something I’m doing, otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting here.”

She gave him a glare, but it was halfhearted; within a breath, her face was distant again. “It’s silly,” she muttered under her breath, seemingly to herself. “It’s silly what women have to deal with, what men do to us.” James sat back quickly as her words hit him. The situation didn’t seem so funny anymore, didn’t seem to merit a joke, and that was always where he was most comfortable. “Er… Lil…”

“I mean, look at me!” she burst out, gesturing to herself frantically. He took it all in — the snug green sweater, frazzled red waves and slight pink flush in her cheeks. He was looking. He couldn’t stop looking, actually. Lily was ranting to him, Lily was sitting at his table, Lily was _here_. With _him_.

And then, all of a sudden, he realized that Lily was close to tears. “Do I look like I want to be hit on?” Her eyes were tight, exhausted. As she sat there waiting for him to answer, her shoulders seems to slowly curve further downward, her fingers clenched more tightly.

So James said slowly, “Er, do I look like the one to ask? I’ve been saying yes to that question since fourth year.”

Lily let out a reluctant chuckle, then quieted, her eyes distantly focusing on the grain of the table. She traced a cigarette burn with one finger. “I just… I want to travel, you know that? And I want to be a Healer. But I feel like I’m fighting on so many fronts to be accepted as a person that I can’t want those things.” She sighed. “It’s nothing. Just life, right? I’m lucky, I shouldn’t be bothered by this as much as I am.”

She was quiet for a moment, and James opened his mouth. To say what, he had no idea, but he felt like he had to say _something_. And then she continued, “I’m sick of having to tell people I have a boyfriend just to get them to leave me alone, like being owned by one man is the only thing that makes other men back off. I’m sick of that idiotic, misogynistic Charms professor calling me ‘sweetheart’ every time I ask an intelligent question he doesn’t know the answer to. And dammit, James, I’m tired of being asked out every time I go outside. Can’t I just exist in the world without projecting a bloody ridiculous vibe that screams, ‘Take me, I’m yours!” When she finished, her eyes were bright, and a few tears slipped down her cheeks. She wiped them away angrily and left her hands fisted around the back of her neck, staring up into the flickering lanterns of the tavern. ‘I’m just… tired,” she whispered. “Just tired of this.”

James leaned back in his seat, utterly floored. Of all the conversations he expected to have while studying at the Three Broomsticks, this was not one — especially not with Lily, the girl he had been chasing relentlessly for years. Scenes flickered through his head: Lily grinning good-naturedly at the first of his asks, and slowly becoming more and more frustrated as they continued. Lily rubbing her eyes in exhaustion in the library and then slowly packing up her books, while enchanted gnomes sang their hearts out about his love. Lily furious at receiving a plate at breakfast which spelled, “Hogsmeade?” in bacon and stomping out of the Great Hall, only to later be found bundled and cold after she had apparently been walking the grounds for hours.

He fiddled with his fingers for a moment. “Would you… er,” James trailed off, head down, then started up again, “would you say… was I — am I — a part of that?”

When he finally glanced up, she had taken her hands off her neck and controlled her tears; her green eyes were thoughtful. “I think you were, James,” she said steadily. He breathed out sharply. Before he could drift to far into the realm of self-hatred, though, he was pulled back by a tentative touch on his wrist. Lily.

“James. Of course you were, asking me out every ten minutes,” she said. “It’s hard to not feel dehumanized by that, to feel like you were asking me out for anything other than the chase.”

He nodded and dipped his head, all too ready to pack up his books and spend the rest of the evening in self-reflection. Alone. Preferable with a large bottle of firewhiskey, while he re-evaluated every interaction he’d ever had with a woman.

“But James,” she continued, tapping his wrist more insistently this time until he lifted his head. “I appreciate you asking.” Her eyes were soft as she added, “And I think the fact that you did shows real progress.”

“But I don’t… Evans, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I had —“

“James,” she laughed quietly, interrupting him and finally drawing her hands back. James’s stomach sank at the lack of touch. “You wouldn’t be you if you hadn’t tried something harebrained and destined for failure,” she teased. “It’s okay. I know nothing was mean-spirited.”

They were both quiet for a moment. And then — “How can I help?” he asked, too quickly and too loudly. “I mean, what can I do? I’ll stop, obviously. I’ll stop asking you out every ten minutes, even though I think you’re the most beautiful witch in the whole world, and not just because of how incredible you look all the time — I think you’re smart, and creative, and have the most unique perspective of anyone I’ve ever met, and you’re kind and funny when you want to be and did I say _smart_ —“

“James!” Lily laughed again, more sincerely this time. “I don’t expect you to change everything, or help me here. You can’t control who comes into Rosmerta’s pub, any more than you can control the Hogwarts population. I was just venting, that’s all.”

James sat up straighter, insistent. “But what if I could?” he asked, leaning forward again. “What if I could make a difference in the Hogwarts population? I can’t do anything about creeps at the bar, but I can make sure no one else feels this way at school. We can make better channels for people to report this, we can hold classes for third-years about how to talk to witches! Once I’m Head Boy —“ He stopped, horrified. “I mean — I didn’t mean to tell you — it’s not serious —“ he stammered.

He was an idiot. Lily sat back, stunned into silence. He shouldn’t have mentioned, he knew she didn’t want to be anywhere near him, especially after this conversation. And if she was hoping to be Head Girl…

But then her face softened, even as she took her book off the table and fit it back into her bag. “Thank you,” she said, smiling. “I needed to hear that today — just that you were interested in helping, that’s all.” She stood up, checking the table briefly to make sure she hadn’t left anything.

“But…”

Lily wound her scarf around her neck. “For the record,” she said, fully upright and bundled, ready to brave the cold outside, “I think classes for third-years is a great idea. And I think it’s exactly the kind of thought that a great Head Boy would have.” Her green eyes twinkled down at him as she reached down and touched his hand once again, briefly.

With another small smile, Lily turned and pushed her way across the crowded pub, disappearing from James’s sight within moments. A tinkling bell over the door was the only sign she had left. But James stared after her, Lily’s last words echoing in his head. _A great Head Boy._

When he finally turned back to his Charms essay, James’s smile was uncontainable, his hair once again ruffled and unruly.

**Author's Note:**

> A similar experience happened to me in a bar recently, then the drabble popped into my head and wouldn't go away. I hope you enjoy!


End file.
